Irresponsible
by Snapegirlkmf
Summary: What if when Rumple came home and found Milah gone in 2x4 (The Crocodile) there was a very different outcome for her irresponsibility? Which included a long overdue telling off by her husband.


**Irresponsible**

**Snapegirlkmf**

Rumplestiltskin limped home as fast as he could after selling most of his thread and blankets at the market. Even though labeled a coward he could still spin the finest thread in the whole Enchanted Forest and many would buy it, since it was more durable and took less time to buy his than it did to spin their own. He tucked his hard earned coppers and silvers into his purse and hobbled home, eager to see Bae and hoping Milah had managed to make supper this time, instead of pleading one of her "headaches", which he knew well the cause of, and it wasn't a female complaint, and leaving him to do so.

When he opened the cottage door, he called, "Milah? Bae? I'm home!"

"Papa?" Bae groaned, from where he was curled up on the floor.

"Bae?" Rumple staggered into the cottage, realizing once again that Milah was absent and had left their four-year-old alone again with the fire going. "Son, what's wrong?"

"I fell . . ." Bae sobbed hysterically. "And my hand . . .hurts real bad, Papa . . ."

A horrified Rumple saw the child's hand, badly burned, weeping with blisters, which he had put out to try and break his fall as he tripped over the dustpan Milah had carelessly left lying on the floor. "Bae!" He went and picked up his son, cursing his lame leg, yet somehow finding the strength necessary to carry his child, who was weeping into his shoulder, to the nearest healer.

**Page~*~*~*~Break**

Milah cupped the dice in her hands and threw, praying for another lucky set. She had been winning steadily this last hour, making back all she had bet previously and then some. She didn't care that she had used the rent money her frugal cowardly spouse had squirreled away in an old wooden bobbin box under the eaves of the roof, all that mattered to the curly ebony haired woman was getting out of that miserable dreary cottage and away from her whiny demanding son for an afternoon. At least here at the tavern she could be among people who appreciated her charms and her smile, the way her stick-in-the-mud husband never did, and having fun gambling and sharing a few drinks with these likely lads fresh from the sea, with their amusing tales and roguish grins and free with their kisses and cuddles as well, among other things.

Milah clapped and her newest paramour, a captain named Killian Jones, cheered when the dice came up sevens. "Lucky number seven, lass!" he roared and toasted her with his glass of rum.

Milah grinned and swept her winnings into a pile.

"How about another game? Double or nothing?" pleaded another pirate, desperate to recoup his losses.

Milah considered, her eyes sparkling with the thrill of the game, the lust to win like a draught of rum running through her blood. Should she or shouldn't she?

Suddenly, the tap of a cane was heard and the pirates looked up as a crippled man with shoulder length brown hair and brown eyes approached the table. "Milah!" he growled.

The woman looked up.

"Who's this?" asked Jones.

"Him? He's no one important. Just my husband," she shrugged and prepared to go back to her game.

"He's a tad taller than you described," Hook mocked and his crew roared with laughter.

So did Milah and she waited for Rumple to cringe and back away like the coward he was and leave her in peace.

But she didn't reckon on what her irresponsibility had cost her, and now she had to pay the piper.

Rumple would have normally entreated his wife to come home by reminding her of her responsibility to her son, as he had so many other times before, but this time was different. This time he was angry and the anger filled his belly with a warm glow that chased away the lingering shame and his reputation as a coward, surging through him like a spring flood as he thought of poor Bae, lying in the healer's cottage, drugged to the eyeballs with poppy syrup after screaming himself hoarse while the healer treated his hand, now swathed in salve and bandages.

'_Tis a bad burn, Rumple. He may not have full use of the hand again, if the nerves were damaged._

His beloved son . . . crippled as he was . . .because his neglectful wife had been down here wagering and drinking instead of home watching him and taking care of him the way she should have been.

His eyes suddenly sparking, he picked up his stick and poked Milah with it, spilling her glass of rum all over the table. The dark amber liquid soaked into the trestles and puddled around the coins before her and the men surrounding her scowled and cried, "Hey, mate! What's the big deal?"

"Rumple, run on home! It's where you belong!" sneered Milah, shoving his stick out of the way.

"No!" he rasped furiously. "It's where _you_ belong! Taking care of our son! _I_ was selling my thread at the market, trying to earn money to keep us fed and clothed and _you_ were supposed to be getting supper on the table and watching Bae . . ." He poked her with the stick again in her chest. "You have responsibilities to our child . . .and instead where are you?"

"Responsibilities? Like being a man and fighting in the Ogre Wars?" she sneered.

"Shut up! Like being a good _mother_ and taking care of your child!" he spat. "Who I found on the floor crying from falling into the fire and burning his hand! Who may lose the use of it thanks to _you_ and your irresponsibility!"

Milah went pale. "Bae's hurt?"

"Yes! Because of you, you lazy, neglectful, selfish whore!" Rumple exploded. "How many times have you come down here, wanting a break, as you call it, wanting to drown your sorrows, and leaving a little boy home alone while I was at the market? Almost every other day I find you here, carousing with your "friends"," he sneered. "Playing dice and having a good time while Bae is home bored and hungry and lonely! I may be a coward but at least I know where _my_ responsibility lies . . .with my family! Unlike you, who thinks only of herself."

Most of the talk around the table and others nearby had ceased as they all stared at the amazing sight of the lame meek spinner, the town coward, berating his wife in public. Some wondered if they were dreaming. Others thought it was long past time Rumplestiltskin got his household in order.

"I . . .I . . ." Milah stammered and started to get to her feet.

"Don't bother getting up," Rumple told her coldly. "Stay where you are with your companions and keep drinking and wagering." He moved over and began scooping up the money in front of her into his pouch.

"Rumple! What are you doing? I won that! It's mine!"

"No, it's not. It's _mine_, dearie. You played with money _I_ earned and now I'm taking it . . .to pay the healer." He straightened and glared at her. "You want to keep playing? Then wager this," he pulled on the golden necklace she'd won in a different game last week. "Or yourself, if you haven't already." He tucked the pouch into his pocket. "But don't bother coming home. You want a different life, a life of adventure and to see the world? Fine! You're sick of being shackled to the town coward? Fine! Go off with your swashbuckler and become a pirate's woman!"

Milah was stunned. "What . . . what are you saying?"

"I'm saying, dearie, you're free of your _responsibilities_. Have a nice life!" Then he spun and limped out of the tavern, back to where his son waited him. His hand clenched his stick hard and for one moment he considered turning back, his hand itching to smack the smug grin off his former wife's face. But then he continued onward. She wasn't worth the effort . . .and Bae needed him.

Milah was almost going to follow, until Jones pulled her back into her chair and said, "Where you going, lass? There's another game to be had . . .and now you're free of the cripple and his brat, so play!"

And she smiled at him saucily and tossed her curls before turning back to the table and pulling off her necklace. "How's this for a stake?"

**Page~*~*~*~Break**

_A month later:_

The healer carefully unwrapped the bandages about Bae's small hand, and gently probed the tender new flesh. The boy winced but said nothing as Rumple looked on.

"Well? How is it? I've done what you said, used the salve you made from the plant you found."

The healer gently flexed the fingers on Bae's hand, as the burn had run right across the palm and there was some scarring. "Can you make a fist, Bae?"

Bae tried, curling his hand. "It pulls."

"Yes, you need to stretch that skin," the healer said. The physician picked up a spoon. "Can you hold this?"

Bae went to do so. The spoon fell.

"Try again. Grip it hard," the healer encouraged, and held out the spoon again.

This time Bae gripped it as hard as he could. He whimpered as the scar and the muscles beneath it ached.

"Yes, it'll hurt, but if you put some salve on it and massage it a bit, you'll find the pain will lessen," the healer said. "But he must exercise the hand, or else the muscles won't work and he won't be able to use it again. For ten minutes twice a day, practice squeezing and holding something, a stick, a spoon, and then opening and flexing the hand. Even if it hurts. Understand?"

"Yes. I'll make sure he does them," Rumple assured the healer. "Thank you for everything." He felt sweat trickle down his neck in relief that his son wouldn't be crippled for life like he was.

"It's my pleasure to help you, Rumple," the healer smiled. "And you too, Bae. If you do as I've told you, you should be playing ball again in a few weeks."

Bae smiled. "Really?"

"Really."

"How much do I owe you?" Rumple reached for his purse.

The healer halted him. "Nothing this time. You've paid enough. I heard your wife left you."

"She did . . . the day Bae was burned. I told her to leave. Her irresponsibility led to this happening." Rumple said firmly.

"Mama was always going off to have a break at the bar," Bae spoke up suddenly. "She said she was bored at home."

The healer snorted. "What a fool! Trading away a lovely child and a hardworking husband for dice and drink and some handsome cheating rogues."

"Well, she's made her bed, now she can lie in it," Rumple declared. He looked again at the healer. "What's your favorite color?"

"Blue. Like the cloudless sky at midday. Why?"

"Just wondering," he replied, thinking how he could spin some blue thread and bring it by in a few days. Nothing was too much trouble for saving Bae's hand. And the healer had only recently moved to his village two months ago. It was then he realized something. "Umm . . .I never caught your name, Mistress . . .?"

"It's Belle. Belle from Avonlea." She turned the full force of her deep cerulean gaze upon him. "Once I was a knight's daughter, and studied at the University of Medicine, before I was forced to flee from Avonlea and come here. The ogres . . .overran my home and destroyed everything."

"Your family?" he queried gently.

"Gone."

"I'm sorry."

"Thank you, Rumplestiltskin." She squeezed his hand gently. "You are a good father and Bae is lucky to have you."

"I'm the town coward. But my boy is all I have," he said modestly.

"You're no coward, Rumplestiltskin. A coward wouldn't have come back. But you did . . .and you stayed and faced up to your responsibilities. The true coward was your wife. She abandoned hers to wench, drink, and gamble. And if that's the life she wants, she should never have married or had a child."

Rumple put an arm around Bae. "You're right . . .pity I never knew that when I married her. Though the one good thing to come out of my marriage was Bae."

"If you have any questions or concerns, come by," Belle said. "My door is always open."

"I will," Rumple promised, then he left, with Bae holding his hand, his steps a little lighter, thinking that soon he would be seeing the healer again . . . with some thread as blue as the sky, and though Bae would always bear the scar of his mother's irresponsibility, he would also be able to regain the use of his hand thanks to his papa's timely arrival and the skill of a clever and beautiful healer.

**A/N: I just had to write this little what if story . . .because what Milah did and the repercussions it could have had for Bae. She didn't just mock Rumple, she put her child in danger, which for me is inexcusable.**


End file.
